


Scorched

by samsuley



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Romance, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:54:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28516734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samsuley/pseuds/samsuley
Summary: In which a Mandalorian bounty hunter seeks the help of an unwilling stranger to protect a child.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Original Character(s), Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	1. Unwilling

**Author's Note:**

> Neith isn't happy about yet another bounty hunter's arrival on Arvala-7.

Neith shook her head gently as beads of sweat cascaded from her hairline, watching as they dropped onto the metal surface below her. The liquid sizzled in the heat as she bent down to blow into the opening of a malfunctioning panel she had removed from a vaporator. It had been giving Kuiil issues for a couple days, and Neith had finally enough free time to check on it.

It wasn't uncommon for their mechanics on the farm to experience some sort of sand build up in places it definitely didn't belong. She impatiently tilted it over and watched as a stream of sand poured onto her workspace.

Peering inside it once again, she spotted more than just the sand issue. Loose wire that didn't seem properly connected to the circuit breaker.

Neith caught Kuiil's gaze, who tinkered quietly next to her, and gestured to the panel.

"Wind storm must've knocked a couple wires loose." She frowned as she gently nudged the wires around to get a better look. Kuiil hummed in acknowledgement before returning to his own project.

Neith wiped along her hairline with her forearm, leaning over the exposed panel to dig through her toolbox.

"You feel that, Kid?" Kuiil questioned lowly, pulling her attention away from her workspace. She stood still, suddenly hyperaware of the sand dancing around her feet- the wind was picking up.

Shielding her eyes from the light, she peered up into the sky and watched patiently.

"Please, please, please." She chanted under her breath as they carefully watched the horizon. It had been a peaceful five days without a disruption from any bounty hunters, and she wanted to keep it that way.

Her breath caught in her throat as shiny glint appeared overtop of the mountains in the distance. As it closed the gap, she could see the silver ship fly in their direction. She turned to watch Kuiil set his tools down, resting his goggles on his forehead.

"They don't need our help, Kuiil." She called out as the Ugnaught cleaned his hands on a rag, and she knew what would come next. He would hop on one of their Bluurg, and journey in the ships direction as it flew overhead and moved to land East of them.

"I'll help anybody in favour of peace." Kuiil spoke, ignoring the girl's warnings. It had become repetitive as she constantly begged the Ugnaught to quit assisting anyone in search of the bounty behind the compounds walls. "I have spoken."

"For fucks sake." She cursed under her breath, returning her attention to the panel as she prepared for a long night.


	2. Uncertain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuiil assists a Mandalorian bounty hunter, but Neith believes he will fail like all of those before him.

The heat beat down on Neith's skin as she hunched over her workspace, awaiting Kuiil's return after he had left in search of the ship that had flown overhead moments before. He had journeyed by Bluurg, and left her to watch over their vapour farm as he had many times since the arrivals of bounty hunters in search of a bounty hidden within the mercenary compound.

She leaned over the tables surface, tweaking the dysfunctional panel of one of the farms many vaporators. Shielding her eyes with her forearm, she peered over her shoulder in the direction of faint chattering. She could see Kuiil approaching on a Bluurg, with a Mandalorian by his side.

She huffed, unsure of why Kuiil insisted on helping every bounty hunter that landed on their planet; especially when they all failed in the end.

Neith turned back to the loose wires and ignored the men in hopes that the hunter would deny the help of the Ugnaught. They spoke lowly in Kuiil's hut as she took a break to drink water from her canteen. She frowned as warm water filled her mouth, struggling to resist the urge to spit it out onto the sand.

She was unsure of how long she had been sitting beneath the beaming sun, sweat beading along her hairline as she lowered herself into the sand.

The Mandalorian ducked as he exited the hut, Kuiil following closely behind as they conversed. She couldn't hear their conversation, furrowing her brows as the Kuiil gestured in her direction and soon after the bounty hunters visor caught her gaze. She gave a curt nod in his direction before turning her attention to the canteen in her hands.

She finished up tinkering the panel, listening as Kuiil directed the Mandalorian on his first lesson of mounting a Bluurg. She was thoroughly unimpressed, and annoyed at the grunts coming from the hunter as he was bucked off the Bluurg for the umpteenth time. Kuiil continued to remain patient as the Mandalorian groaned in frustration.

"Perhaps if you removed your helmet." Kuiil offered.

Neith hooked her tool belt around her waist, hoisting the panel over her shoulder before heading in the direction of the vaporator it belonged to. Her feet dug into the sand, her tongue darting over her dry lips, strands of her hair stuck to the sheen of sweat on her forehead and neck.

"Perhaps he remembers I tried to roast him," The Mandalorian grunted in response, leaning back on his hands as his legs sat sprawled before him.

Neith huffed, turning away from their conversation as she approached the vaporator, pulling the cloth that hung from her belt and laying it on the sand. She gently leant down and placed the heavy panel onto the stained cloth in hopes to prevent the sand from infiltrating the mechanics again. She worked diligently as the men continued argue, wiping the sweat from her brow as she reattached the wires.

She screwed the panel door shut, just in time to catch the Mandalorian successfully seated atop the Bluurg. Kuiil nodded in appreciation, gesturing for her to walk over. She tucked her tools back into her belt, shaking the cloth in the wind to get rid of the excess sand before cleaning her grease coated hands.

"We're heading to the compound soon," Kuiil informs her as she squints in his direction. She looks down to her hands as she wipes at the tar between her fingers, nodding at Kuiil's words as the Mandalorian struggles to dismount on his own.

"You should come along." Kuiil adds, looking up at the girl. Her eyes widening at his suggestion, knowing that throughout all the bounty hunters they had encountered- he had never asked her to join them. She knew he was serious about his belief in this Mandalorian.

"I'm not done working." That was a lie, she was prepared to rest after she had finished the vaporator; but she'd rather continue working than help lead another hunter to his inevitable death.

"The farm will survive, _Sahar_." Kuiil started, and Din wondered if he was supposed to be hearing this conversation.

He opened his mouth to deny the need for her assistance, but she beat him to it.

"I'm not done working." She repeated, her words edged with a tone that showed she wasn't going to change her mind. She turned to look over her shoulder at the Mandalorian, noticing he had been listening in. Her eyes softened as they stood in silence, searching his tinted visor- as if she looked hard enough she would find his eyes. "Good luck."

—

Kuiil had returned hours later, letting himself into Neith's hut as she sipped from a jagged metal can of hot tea. She sat quietly, wanting to speak up but she couldn't help but feel her need to hold a grudge silence her. The Ugnaught slowly moved to tug a plastic crate to sit across from her, folding his hands in his lap as he waited patiently.

Her skin felt sticky with dried sweat as she fiddled with the drink in her hand, stretching her aching legs out in front of her as she avoided Kuiil's gaze. He was one of the only people she feared being judged by, but her stubbornness was stronger than her fear.

"You truly believe he will fail." Kuiil finally spoke up to fill the thick silence.

"I do." She grunted, tracing the cans edge with her fingernail. They sat in silence again, the nights breeze picking up outside of the tent. She wished for the interaction to be over so she could bathe, and rest for the night.

"How are you so certain?" She chuckled dryly at his words, the frustration she felt earlier beginning to reignite in her chest. She could hear the words that were meant to follow his statement: _This bounty hunter, this situation... it's different._ That's why he asked for her help, but it was still no excuse for him to push Neith against her will. He knew better than anyone in the galaxy that she wanted no part of that business.

"How are _you_ so certain? What's so different about this hunter than all the others, huh?" Neith spoke through her teeth as she stood quickly, the crate she sat upon nearly falling over at the sudden movement. "Because he's a Mandalorian? Is that it?"

She busied her hands with cleaning the surface of her cabinets, which had been dirtied with a mixture of her belongings, and trash after weeks of neglect. She was preoccupied most of her days with work and sleep, and her slob tendencies were a terrible habit that she was yet to work on. Along with a long list of other habits- her impatience being one of them. Kuiil's ability to remain calm and patient with anyone he encountered was one of the many things Neith admired most about him.

"Your fatalistic approach is no way to live, _Sahar_." The judgement was gentle, but clear in his statement. The words tugged at her chest as her muscles tensed unconsciously. In all the years they'd spent side-by-side, he had never judged any of her actions. Until now.

Added to that long list of habits: her undying pessimism.

"That fatalistic approach is what has kept me alive all these years, Kuiil." Her words nearly caught in her throat. The judgement in the Ugnaught's tone ringing loudly through her thoughts.

"The Mandalorian won't fail," Kuiil stated as he moved to leave the hut. "I have spoken."

—

Light had began to fall days after the Mandalorian had set off, Neith and Kuiil dancing around each other in silence without acknowledging the nagging feeling that hung in the air. The Mandalorian had failed to return, just like the rest. She surprised herself when she couldn't find the motivation to look Kuiil in the face, and say _I told you so._ Even she found the disappointment of the Mandalorian's failure weighing on her shoulders.

Neith fidgeted with wires, squinting to see properly as she worked in minimal daylight. She was minutes from retiring to her hut like Kuiil had moments before, when she saw a figure approaching in her peripherals.

"We thought you were dead," She spoke honestly as she tucked the wires back in and proceeded to screw the panel door shut. Her gaze caught a small, green creature that stumbled at the Mandalorian's feet as it clumsily chased after a frog. Her brows furrowed in confusion as she climbed down the rusted ladder to get a closer look. It had ears stretching out at least a few inches, and a head decorated with minuscule white hairs. It looked up with wide, adoring eyes as if it trusted her with it's life. She had never in her life seen a creature of it's kind.

"I think it's a child," The Mandalorian stated, peering at Neith who was bent on her knees before the creature. She quietly watched as it tumbled around, blubbering to itself. She hadn't been around many kids before, let alone one that wasn't humanoid. She couldn't comprehend why this child was so important, why all those bounty hunters had risked their lives to capture a child...

"My ship has been destroyed." He huffed, interrupting her train of thought as he fiddled with his malfunctioning vambrace. "I'm trapped here."

Neith chuckled dryly in response, digging into her tool belt for something to help. He stared at her outreached hand in confusion, clearly not used to anything other than her aloof behaviour. He took the tool apprehensively, keeping an eye on her before tinkering the vambrace.

"Stripped, not destroyed." She corrected, peering up at the darkening sky. "The Jawas steal, they don't destroy."

He handed the tool back, watching as she turned to the child for a few moments before returning her attention to him. "I'll go wake Kuiil."

And with that, she turned towards the Ugnaught's hut and left him standing in the sand.


	3. Uncomfortable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neith and Kuiil travel alongside the Mandalorian to retrieve his ships parts from the Jawaas.

Din's legs ached as he sat in a transport cart being led by a Bluurg. Kuiil had assured them they would reach where the Jawas had set up shop by sunrise. Neith sat in silence with her back rested along the other side of the cart, her knees tucked to her chest. She hadn't spoken a single word since she had gone to wake the sleeping Ugnaught.

He caught her gaze resting on the Child sitting up-right within a pile of blankets. Her head tilted, confusion etched on her face as she watched the creature. He wanted to echo her silent questions about the kid, but he bit his tongue instead.

She was hard for him to read. Her scarred, calloused hands were the trademarks of a hard worker. But the jagged scars that painted her face— cutting through her brow to skip over her left eye and continue across the apple of her cheek, and the smaller scar that bit through the top of her lip— Din wasn’t sure if those were a result of working on a moisture farm. Kuiil hadn't mentioned much about her before their voyage to the compound, even after the dispute between them he had witnessed.

_"And the girl?" Din began, his thoughts occupied with the encounter back on the vapour farm; trying not to let her hostility shake his confidence about the bounty. "She's not happy that I'm here."_

_"She doesn't share the same sentiment about helping bounty hunters anymore." Kuiil spoke, shaking his head. "Too many have failed. Too much disappointment."_

_"I don't blame her." Din responded, and Kuiil nodded in agreement._

Her head hung tiredly as the cart rustled over the uneven sand dunes, the Bluurg grunted as Kuiil pulled the reigns tighter. They were far into their journey, but still had a few hours until they were due to spot any hint of daylight.

"Sleep," He suggested as she stifled a yawn. Her eyes shot up in surprise to find him staring at her, holding her gaze on the T-shaped visor for a few beats.

"S'okay." Neith insisted after her moment of hesitation, sitting up straighter to brush off the wave of exhaustion. She didn't trust him enough to sleep right now. It would leave her and Kuiil in a vulnerable position, especially after knowing he was skilled enough to capture the bounty which so many had failed to do before.

The Mandalorian nodded stiffly in response, turning his attention to the Child.

"There's food in the knapsack." Kuiil called out over his shoulder. She opened her mouth to decline, but Kuiil held his hand up without even looking in her direction. As if he had anticipated her response.

She grumbled as she reached for the pack, digging around to pull a delicately wrapped cloth. A sour look formed on her face as she untied the knot.

"Not a fan of bread-root patties?" Din questioned her reaction.

"More like not a fan of eating in general." Kuiil snickered from his spot on the Bluurg, looking back at the bounty hunter. Neith huffed, offering Din the contents of the cloth, but he shook his head and silently thanked her. She then turned to the Child.

"Is he... I mean can he...?" She gestured towards him. Din shrugged, unsure of what the Child was able to eat- other than frog, of course.

"Go ahead." He spoke, watching as she hesitated as if the action of feeding a child was out of her range of capabilities. She silently shifted her self closer, her fingers fumbling as she ripped a piece of bread-root patty, brows furrowed while she gauged the proper size to feed him.

She leaned forward, pausing as the Child reached out towards her. She watched intently as the Child immediately placed it in his mouth, barely chewing before swallowing the patty. He hummed in appreciation, and instantly reached for another.

Din silently watched Neith shake her head to herself as she reached to rip him another piece.

—

"Greetings!" Kuiil called out as they approached the crawling fortress surrounded by Jawas. Neith watched as some of them cowered in fear at the sight of the Mandalorian, while others stood apprehensively, weapons in hand.

"They really don't like you, for some reason." Kuiil pointed out. Neith chuckled as Din explained he might have disintegrated them in the days prior. She sat up as Kuiil slowed the Bluurg to a stop, gesturing for the Mandalorian to hoist himself out of the cart. A trio approached the men, and Neith could hear the distinct exclaims from one of the Jawa.

"You need to drop your rifle." Kuiil warned as he translated Jawa to English.

"I'm a Mandalorian, weapons are part of my religion." Mando proclaimed in frustration, squinting his eyes at the small creatures before him. Neith noted his short temper.

"Then you are not getting your parts back." Kuiil finalized. The Mandalorian paused, and Neith could basically hear the stream of curses running through his head. He sighed, and placed his rifle in the cart next at her feet. The Jawa chimed again, shaking his blaster in the bounty hunters face. " _And_ the blaster."

Beneath his helmet, Din seethed in anger at the constant demands, dropping the blaster next to the rifle. He peered up, catching Neith's gaze on him already.

"Keep an eye on the kid for me?" Her chin dipped in response.

Neith watched as the men approached a crowd of Jawa next to the fortress, and the Mandalorian followed Kuiil's lead as he knelt before them. The distance between them prevented her from hearing the majority of their conversation, so she kept her eye on their expressions.

The Mandalorian blasted flames from his vambrace in the Jawas direction, and Neith rolled her eyes. His temper would cost him his ships parts.

In the corner of her eye, she spotted a pair of Jawas approaching the Child, who was waiting for the Mandalorian's return. She was quick to grab the blaster that sat at her feet, and aim it inches away from their heads.

The crowd turns in their direction as they squealed in fear, cowering away from the cart.

"Get away from them." Din warned.

Neith retired the blaster once again, dropping it beside her feet as if it had burned her hand. She stood stiffly— hovering over the Child as the men returned to their trade debate, brushing her hand gently over the Child's head, who gurgled happily in response.

She busied herself with re-tying her hair out of her face, struggling to brush her fingers through the tangled strands. The sun beats down on her exposed shoulders, tinting the skin a rosy pink. An antsy feeling danced around her chest, unable to remember the last time she had been away from the farm longer than a mere few hours. Years, maybe.

Neith's upbringing, and her own strict self-disciple had programmed her to work tirelessly everyday, paired with the safety net she felt being within proximity of the farm, and Kuiil. 

A chant pulled her from her thoughts, watching as the Jawas danced around in elation. She wasn't fluent in Jawa, but this word was familiar. _The egg! The egg! The egg!_

—

Neith's neck ached as she ducked through the crawling fortress to stand beside the Mandalorian, an uneasy feeling turning in the pit of her stomach. Arms folded across her chest, awaiting the Jawas to lower the ramp. She couldn't wait to see the stretch of desert before her once again, her skin felt grimy from the stale air that filled the sand crawler.

The hard flooring beneath her feet hummed as the ramp lowered at a painfully slow rate.

Din caught himself watching her from behind his visor, her pale eyes darting around at the Jawas, standing stiffly. Her stance told him everything he needed to know- she was wary of them. Rightfully so.

The ramp grounded itself in the soft, warm sand. His boots felt as if they were filled with lead, but he willed himself to walk down, Kuiil and the Child by his side. As they reached the base, he turned to the Ugnaught whose hand waited, outstretched for him to shake. He gripped his hand, sharing a brief moment of understanding in silence before he turned his attention to Neith.

"You going to wish me good luck?" He called out, and immediately wishing he could retract his words. She met his gaze through the visor, unknowingly. She is quiet for _one, two, three_ beats before she acknowledges him.

"You going to need it?" He's unsure about whether or not he was mistaken about the hint of lightheartedness in her tone. He's reassured when her lips pulling over her teeth to reveal a crooked smile.

He fought the soft edges of his mouth pulling upwards.

Din turned from the crowd watching him carefully, and peered at the valley between the sand dunes that the Jawas had pointed out. The trail that would lead him to the Egg. He glanced over his shoulder, sending a firm nod in Kuiil's direction, and began his trek along the trail with the Child hovering closely behind.

Kuiil watched the Mandalorian hike through the sand until he disappeared from their field of vision around a hillside, and then turned his attention to the Jawas guiding his cart down the ramp.

—

They rested against the side of the cart, gazing at the horizon.

The Jawas chattered amongst themselves, and Neith didn't need to speak their language to understand that they are getting progressively more impatient. That sight ate at her dwindling hope of the Mandalorian returning safely, with the Child by his side and the Egg in hand.

She bit at the skin around her nails, and blindly reached backwards into the cart for a canteen of water to soothe her dry, aching throat. Instead of finding a metal bottle wrapped in a woven cover, her hand brushes the handle of a blaster. _The Mandalorian's blaster._

He must have grabbed his rifle after their encounter with the Jawas, and forgotten his other weapon on the floor of the cart where he had tossed it haphazardly. Her mind raced as she bit her lip, debating the nagging thoughts.

All the bounty hunters that came before the Mandalorian, all of their failures, all of the disappointment. Kuiil might have been right about him— and might have been right about helping him. His words rang through her head.

_I'll help anyone in favour of peace._

She reached out, leaning over the edge of the cart toward the blaster, her fingers brushing the handle—

She jerked her hand back to her side as the abrupt sound of metal against metal, and the cries of Jawaas as they bickered amongst themselves over whatever they had just dropped inside the sand-crawler. Kuiil raised an eyebrow at her sudden movements.

She watched as he awaited her response. “Scared me." Was all she offered.

He huffed, leaving Neith to rest against the edge of the cart to think about the Mandalorian and the Mudhorn's cave that rested just beyond the billowing sand dunes.


	4. Unabashed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Neith, Kuiil and Din repair the Razor Crest.

The Jawas patience was quickly dwindling as the sun began to set behind the sand dunes. They bickered amongst themselves, Kuiil and Neith sharing a look as they realized the Jawaas had begun to retreat into their crawling fortress.

“Kuiil…” Neith warned.

The Jawas moved up the ramp, babbling and gesturing towards the Ugnaught and then out toward the path the Mandalorian had disappeared down over two hours ago. “Just a little while longer!” Kuiil reasoned with the little creatures as they turned their back on him.

One spun, and waved a hand of dismissal at the useless pleas.

“Fine,” Kuiil crossed his arms over his chest. “Go without us.”

Neith shook her head, shielding her eyes from the setting sun as she felt the ground tremble beneath her— the ramp jolting as it began its slow ascension. Her heart sank in disappointment after nearly a few hours of waiting beneath the scorching sun, hunched over on their cart within the shade the crawling fortress had provided. 

Neith missed the farm, and her bed. She brushed her hair back, sweeping the strands that were plastered to her forehead from profusely sweating. _And_ she missed her refresher.

Going on nearly thirty-six hours without sleep, she rested her forehead against against the knee she had propped to her chest. She silently picked at the lace hanging from her boot, watching Kuiil pace in her peripherals. His sigh filled her ears.

“Kuiil, maybe—” She begins, but something’s already caught his attention.

Covered in mud, accompanied by a floating bassinet with an egg tucked to his chest is the Mandalorian. His shoulders are hunched, and he’s dragging his feet as he makes his way towards them. 

“Mando!” Kuiil calls out.

The Ugnaught moves to meet the Mandalorian halfway, and Neith watches from her spot as the duo talk amongst themselves. The Jawas had begun to lower the ramp, calling out to the other Jawas within the sand-crawler— _The Egg! The Egg! The Egg!_

They greedily snatched it from his hands, hacking the top off to reveal a thick, orange yolk.

Neith frowned as she watched them take turns dunking their hands into the yolk, bringing it to their hoods as they jabbered happily. She fought off a shudder at the thought of eating the raw egg of a mudhorn.

“I’m surprised you waited.” The Mandalorian rasped, pulling her attention from the chattering Jawas. His chest piece had been peeled back, the mechanics within sparking as the broken wires mixed with the mud that caked him head to toe. He reached over her to drop the broken armour he had tucked under his arm onto the cart.

“M’surprised you took so long.” She mused.

He pulled back slightly, pausing to catch Neith’s gaze, her eyes danced in amusement. 

“ _Maybe_ you should have wished me good luck.”

Her pulse picked up at the sound of a quiet chuckle, just barely audible through the modulator of his helmet. His hip brushed against the outside of her knee, leaving a patch of mud as he pulled back to face Kuiil.

“They offered to help us load the cart.” Kuiil called out, gesturing towards the Jawas that had begun to form a production line to pass down each individual ship part to be stacked back onto their transport. 

—

The sun had been long gone behind the mountains by the time they had packed the cart, and travelled to where the Mandalorian’s ship had been stripped bare, and abandoned. The dimming sky and lull of the hovering cart beneath her made it increasingly more difficult to fight off the sleep that plagued her. 

She found herself leaning against the scrap metal behind her, pinching her thigh to keep conscious as she found herself dozing off every few moments. She was hit by a second wind as the Razor Crest fell into her line of vision.

“There’s no way we’re going to get this to work without a full maintenance facility, this is going to take days to fix.” The Mandalorian grumbled, standing with his hands on his hips as he looked over at his stripped ship. Sand had began to coat the floor as the wind blew it through the gaps of it’s shell. 

“If you care to help it might go faster.” Kuiil pointed out from where he worked alongside Neith to set up their floodlights to make up for the lack of natural light. He flipped the switch, watching as it lit up the surrounding area.

Neith bit back a laugh, sitting her welding helmet atop her head as she reached for a micro-valve. “You’re—-” Kuiil held his hand out to stop her, shaking his head. The Ugnaught held out a engine coupling instead. “On engine duty.”

She shook her head in disbelief, stripping her hands of her leather gloves— the material was too bulky for delicate wiring. She could already feel a jolt of electricity at the thought of being elbow-deep in the gunships engine. 

This would definitely keep her awake. 

“Yes, sir.” She huffed, and tucked her gloves into the pocket of her coveralls so she could grab the coupling from his outstretched hands. He then reached for his makeshift workbench, and passed the Mandalorian a mallet.

“There is much work to do.”

—

Forty-seven hours without sleep and Neith was losing her ability to concentrate.

The amount of times her fingers had been zapped or pinched had steadily increased as the night progressed. The lack of sleep was fogging her brain, and made her otherwise steady hands tremble as she had hunched over the circuit board with live wires in hand.

She felt a wave of relief, sitting back to clean the grease off of her hands as she admired the engine she had reconstructed in mere hours— her first time working on a Razor Crest. She flexed her aching hands, stretching out her fingers and rotating her wrists. 

“All done?” Kuiil questioned over his shoulder as he halted the repair torch.

“All done.” She confirmed.

The Mandalorian sucked in a breath as his peeled back chest piece sparked beneath his gloved hands as he attempted to repair it himself. Kuiil gestured in that general vicinity as he knocked his welding mask back down over his face. “Help him.”

The Mandalorian opened his mouth to protest the help, but Neith had already begun to dig through her tool box. He sat back, watching as she tucked rogue hairs behind her ears with her tar stained hands.

Neith’s movements felt lethargic, snatching her prized multi-tool and pushing the toolbox with her foot so it sat before the Mandalorian’s feet. 

The sunless night sky had provided some relief from the dessert heat— a cooling wind kissed the overheated skin on the nape of her neck as she had worked on the engine. But the sun had begun to rise again, so Neith tugged at the zipper of her coveralls to expose her camisole, letting the coverall’s sleeves hang past her hips.

The Mandalorian watched her silently, and she wondered if she looked as badly as she felt. _Smelt_ as badly as she felt. She had to hold back a laugh at her own silent prayer that the Mandalorian’s helm could provide him that protection.

She knocked her knuckle against the inside of his knee, silently asking for him to part his legs further. His muscles tensed at the sudden touch, but he hesitantly obeyed, allowing her enough room to sit atop of her rusted toolbox.

Neith noted his hesitance, so she peered up at his tinted visor as she lifted her hand towards the chest piece and raised an eyebrow in question. 

He cleared his throat, giving a curt nod in response.

It took a moment to peel back the rest of the metal covering to give Neith a full view of the malfunctioning panel and to allow Kuiil to take the covering to his makeshift worktable and hammer out the dents. She noted a few visible issues off the bat— mud had caked the panel that contained a few frayed wires from the obvious damage it had sustained.

Working diligently, she managed to pull the wires from the panel enough to clean in and around them before she could attempt to fix the electrical issues at hand. She couldn’t fix it as well as she had hoped, as she lacked a few items that were left behind at the farm, so she found the best temporary solutions utilizing what she had on hand.

A few strands of electrical tape, and a wire connector were enough to patch up the damage.

“… you.” She pulled her attention from the task at hand to note that the Mandalorian had said something.

“M’sorry?”

“I was just saying thank you.” He repeated.

“Oh,” she paused. “You’re welcome.”

He sat quietly as she continued to work, but she could nearly hear his mind reeling behind that helmet for something else to say to fill the silence. So she spoke instead.

“I don’t know much about kids, but are they supposed to sleep for this long?”

The Mandalorian tilted his head, looking over her shoulder towards the floating bassinet where the Child continued to sleep soundly since he had— _saved_ him from the Mudhorn. Dangled it five feet off of the ground with just his mind. “I don’t know much, either.” He responded honestly.

She paused to think, shrugging. “Maybe it’s normal for his kind.”

“Maybe.” Din hummed in agreement.

“This should— thanks, Kuiil.” She grabbed the reconstructed chest plate from the Ugnaught, and Din sat still as Neith began to re-seal it to the panel. “This should hold up for the time being.”

She sat back on her toolbox, her knee knocking against his as she stood up to stand alongside Kuiil. “I can’t thank you both enough.” He reached his hand out, to which she grasped and shook firmly.

“Please allow me to give you both a portion of the reward.” Din offered.

“We cannot accept,” the Ugnaught refused as Neith moved around them, collecting the rest of their belongings that remained on the ship. “You are a guest and we are therefore in your service.” 

Neith double-checked her toolbox was sealed before she lugged it back to their cart, her feet dragging in the sand. She sighed in relief, haphazardly tucking it away with the rest of their tools they had brought for the repairs.

Lifting herself onto the edge of the cart, Neith watched the sky peak out from behind the mountains as she drank the last of the water in her canteen. A wave of exhaustion threatened to pull her under as the sun warmed her skin.

“You’re a skilled mechanic.”

She looked over her shoulder to spot the Mandalorian approaching the cart.

“I could use a crew member of your ability and I can pay handsomely,” he offered. Neith stared into the tinted visor, calculating exactly what he was presenting. A trip off of Arvala-7— away from the farm, away from _Kuiil_. Her heart stuttered at the notion. “And the Imp is offering _beskar_ for the Child, it could be melted down into new tools. If you come work _for_ me—”

Neith froze, her muscles tensing.

“You’re… giving the child over to the Empire?” She interrupted, her eyebrows furrowing.

_The Empire. The Empire. THE EMPIRE._

Neith hadn’t put much thought into the Client that had put out the bounty for the strange creature, but it hadn’t crossed her mind that it would be an _Imp._ The Mandalorian hadn’t been enlisted to bring the Child home to it’s family, or to others of it’s kind— but to the Empire.

“I don’t want to work _for_ anyone,” she grit her teeth. 

_Let alone a bounty hunter who, in exchange for a bit of metal, dumps kids off to become slaves._

_Or to be immediately terminated— if the kid would be so lucky._ She sneered at the thought.

“I understand, then all I can offer is my thanks.” He said stiffly, and hesitated for a moment before he realized he wasn’t getting any further responses out of her and turned on his heel to walk back to his ship.


End file.
